Chapter Text
“Hyungie?”
Wooyoung stood in the doorway of the built-in studio down in the basement. It was cold as goosebumps ran down his arms to his fingertips. Hongjoong glanced up from where he was mixing beats together, eyebrows furrowing and then his frown fading as he caught Wooyoung’s eye. He slid his headphones off and set them aside.
“Hey,” Hongjoong greeted him, as Wooyoung bolted into his arms, nuzzling his neck over and over. “What’s up, pup?”
Wooyoung beamed. “Hwa-hyung wants you back in the den. Mingi and San are apparently making dinner and dessert, and they already burnt something. It’s an emergency.” He stared up at Hongjoong with pleading eyes, pouting.
“You know I have another—” Hongjoong tried, giving up when Wooyoung opened his mouth.
“Yeah, yeah, hyung, save the excuses for later!” Wooyoung grabbed his arms and pulled him up, earning a soft groan from Hongjoong in response. He could only squawk in disbelief and protest as Wooyoung dragged him upstairs into proper warm lighting and animated faces with real voices.
“And he lives,” Mingi said right away. He was stationed by the stove, cutting up onions for their stew while batting the tears away. San was next to him, but instead was too focused on hand-mixing cake batter. His tongue was out and Wooyoung knew it was a lost cause trying to get through to him.
“Finally!” Seonghwa nearly ran to the two of them, running his fingers through Hongjoong’s short, spiky hair that was recently cut and dyed. “I was scared for a second we’d lose you to a fire while you’re locked and alone down there.”
Hongjoong scoffed playfully and leaned in to lock their lips together.
All around them, the kitchen was boisterous and full of life, and Wooyoung’s face burned red looking at it all.
Mingi was giggling too loud at something Yunho said, and Yeosang pressed up against San, licking into his mouth and smiling the entire time. Seonghwa pandered around the kitchen, setting the table with their nice dishes and pouring glasses of white wine with ice. Hongjoong was busy trying samples, taking tiny licks of the homemade frosting prepared by Jongho hours earlier.
Jongho himself was sizzling beef tips outside on the porch. It must be so nice.
Wooyoung was still pressed up near the door of the basement, a dry throat and even drier eyes. His hands were in fists, clenched tight against his thighs. Shivers wracked his spine and he gulped a good three big times. The anxieties swirling around in his gut made him wince as he thought about his next moves.
How do I muster up the courage to tell them that I want to cockwarm them for hours on end?